


all the wounds

by wentz



Series: GHOST OF YOU [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Ghost Of You Video, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wentz/pseuds/wentz
Summary: pete refers to everything in terms of “before” and “after”, but most guys’ “before” ends in ‘41 whereas pete’s ends sometime in the summer of ‘44.





	

**Author's Note:**

> if you haven't read the previous installation, "at the end of the world", please do so before reading this ! there are major spoilers for that story arc within this fic. also be cautious reading if you will be disturbed by mentions of death, war, etc. there are no graphic descriptions but this is a postwar fic so.
> 
> obviously i made an authorial choice to omit capitalization from this piece. i also played with grammar rules a little tiny bit. hopefully it translates well..... lol
> 
> also a quick disclaimer: i have nothing but respect for pete wentz's family and i know he loves them deeply.
> 
> enjoy. xopeter

 

**CAME BACK WITH FLAGS ON COFFINS AND SAID “WE WON”**

 

 

**1945**

the medal they give him is heavy (he thinks his chest will collapse with the weight of it when they pin it onto his jacket - all that shiny, new guilt) and meaningless [ _never coming home_ ] and the ugliest shade of purple he’s ever seen. if pete could use his fucking legs he’d pull it off the mantle and chuck it into the fire. instead he sits under its glare and feels conspicuously handicapped.

 

 

**1946**

a girl he dated before (pete refers to everything in terms of “before” and “after”, just like all the other assholes who had the misfortune of making it back stateside after four years of watching their best friends die in their arms [ _never coming home_ ], but most guys’ “before” ends in ‘41 whereas pete’s ends sometime in the summer of ‘44) tells him she waited for him, prayed for him to come back safely [ _never coming home_ ], so he marries her, if nothing else for his poor mother’s sake. she doesn’t deserve the burden of pushing her crippled son around for the rest of her (or, more likely, his) life [ _could i? should i?_ ] [ _if i died we’d be together_ ] on top of everything else. the girl loves him and he feels sorry for her, that she’s tied herself to a man whose best efforts in bed are to startle her into wakefulness by choking on his own tears.

 

 

**1950**

the first son is born and another war starts [ _the end of the world_ ]. the people they know keep congratulating him, but he wonders if they would say the same things if they knew how sometimes he lays awake at night and listens to the son fuss in his crib and thinks about how it would feel (how it would stop feeling) to get shot [ _if i died we’d be together_ ].

 

 

**1956**

another war [ _the end of the world_ ], another son, in that order. the first son plays with toy soldiers and sometimes pete overhears his wife pleading with him to stop making gun noises while daddy is around [ _all the ghosts_ ]. he has taken to telling her he’ll get himself into bed so that she doesn’t have to bother helping him in and out of the chair when they both know he likely won’t sleep anyways. sometimes late at night he’ll take the baby out of his crib and hold him, rub his nose in the soft tufts of hair at the very top of his head. he smells like something soft: powder; the light blue of his little footie pajamas; the sky; warm days by the sea; and something unnameable that brings back wispy memories. pete can’t quite pin them down in the waking world - they won’t stay still long enough for him to figure out exactly what he’s being reminded of [ _haunt me_ ] - but if he falls asleep with the baby in his arms he dreams of the way brown eyes look through cigarette smoke [ _ever get the feeling that you’re never all alone?_ ].

 

 

**1968**

pete’s wife thinks the newspapers upset him [ _all the ghosts_ ], so she’ll nag if she sees him with one, but the oldest son sneaks them in after school and pushes pete outside so they can read them together in the shade of the big tree without her overhearing. his son sits in the old tire swing and stares at nothing with his chin in his hands while he listens to pete read about civil rights and flower power and the ever mounting death toll [ _never coming home_ ]. pete sees something in the teenager’s face when he reads about mr. king that puts his heart at ease despite the ever-present shadow of the draft card with the boy’s name printed on it in neat type [ _the end of the world_ ]. when the young man inevitably gets tired of sitting still (so much like his father) and leaves him behind, pete closes his eyes and the numbers he’s been reading are burned on the inside of the lids, ticking ever upwards achingly slow, like the mileage on a car [ _never coming home_ ]. he multiplies it by two in his head to account for all the pairs of perpetually smudged glasses lenses.

 

 

**1978**

when they’re babies, the grandchildren tug at the chain of pete’s dog tags [ _i_ _can’t always just forget_ ] as he holds them on his lap. they get older and the leather covering the arms of his wheelchair squeaks under their little hands as they beg him to make the chair go faster, papa, faster. the memory of their giggles makes him strangely sad. in the early mornings he sits in front of the big windows that face the back lawn and watches the dew on his wife’s roses burn away. pete thinks the rising sun doesn’t shine as brightly as it used to [ _all the ghosts_ ], or maybe it’s his vision that’s growing dim.

 

 

**1991**

there’s a reunion. by some stupid miracle gerard finds him and doesn’t let go of his hand after they shake, just plants himself in a chair next to pete’s and hangs onto his hand like a lifeline through the dinner and all the speeches [ _all the ghosts_ ]. when it’s over he fishes a little box out of his pocket and places it in pete’s lap as if it’s something very fragile. pete falls asleep in his chair that night with mikey’s name imprinted backwards in his palm (finally something physical to compare the feeling in his heart to) from clinging to the tags so tightly. he thinks he understands how gerard felt as he held pete’s hand during all the slideshows [ _i remember_ ] [ _all the ghosts_ ] and stories [ _i remember_ ] [ _the end of the world_ ] and moments of silence [ _never coming home_ ] [ _i remember_ ], countless moments of silence that all blurred one into another, none of them long enough to capture eternal summer nights [ _all the smiles_ ] and scratchy stubble [ _could i? should i?_ ] and precious confessions [ _if i fall_ ] made to the backing track of gunfire and mayhem [ _never coming home_ ] [ _never coming home_ ] [ _haunt me_ ].

 

 

**1992**

one day one of the grandbabies asks about the new (old, so very old) picture, framed carefully on the little table next to papa’s side of the bed [ _the last thing i see_ ]. pete picks it up and hands it to her so she can see better. she touches the glass gingerly with one finger, tracing the big circular frames of the soldier’s glasses [ _never coming home_ ]. her round face looks serious in the midst of a halo of blonde curls. a frowning cherub. he pulls her onto his lap even though she’s really getting too big - not like he can feel his legs, anyways - and kisses her just behind her ear, looks down at the photo with his chin on her head [ _could i? should i?_ ]. he figures it’s as good a time as any to tell her about love at first (summer of) like.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my very special and wonderful and amazing friend riro. i love him deeply and hope he has a very merry christmas. u are the patrick 2 my pete. ily.
> 
> self-beta'd. any grammar mistakes are a result of my own oversight. thank u for reading. if u wanna yell abt this with me hmu at wintour.tumblr.com! xopeter


End file.
